


He's Just So Phichity...

by BluSkates



Series: Six Kinds of Love is a fantastic read [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Human Trafficking, Related to another A03 work, Russian Mafia, Six Signs of Love Universe, he's just so damned phichity!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 01:24:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10709214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluSkates/pseuds/BluSkates
Summary: This is to cheer up Frilly_Axolotl who is the mastermind behind of my fav alt uni YOI fics,Six Signs of Lovewhich I fell in love with upon reading immediately. I would really recommend you mosey (is that how you spell it...) on over to their fic and check it out! This is how Phichit got in the house.





	He's Just So Phichity...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Frilly_Axolotl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frilly_Axolotl/gifts).



Viktor had been absorbed in the video game he’d brought with him on the car ride. It served two purposes. The first was that it somehow helped abate the crippling carsickness he got when driving for longer than five minutes. The second was it made ignoring his father so much easier.

His father surveyed his son. At 16 Viktor was just as tall as the older man, he had filled out in the chest and shoulders and with the brilliant silver hair that he inherited from his mother Viktor could pass for an adult easily. He could pass, if he could be bothered to behave like one. The father slapped the game from his son’s hand demanding the boy’s full attention as the car slowed into a parking spot.

“What the hell?” Viktor was in a surly mood. He didn’t like his father’s business. He didn’t like his father.

“We’re here.” The father said waiting for the door to be opened. Held up a hand to his driver, indicating a moment of privacy. “I need to show you what we do. But I need to make you understand it as well.”

Viktor grimaced. He didn’t want this. “Dad, I want to…”

“To go home. I know.” The old man rubbed his temples. His sensitive younger son wasn’t groomed for this. Viktor wasn’t supposed to inherit the business. But it all went wrong last year. “Listen, if Vlad had lived…”

Viktor turned his head and tried to not let any more tears fall on that name. _If Vlad had lived, if Mum had lived._

“Viktor.” His father started again, grabbing the boy’s hand. “I know this isn’t what you want…”

“Mum would have never let you take me out of school.” He wasn’t able to reach his father’s eyes.

“You got a certificate of completion. More than I got, more than Vlad got. You should be proud of that. But there was no reason to stay for the cram sessions. You’re not going to university any longer.”

Viktor bit his lip. He had been cheated. Robbed of his adoring older brother and mother in the same “accident” which his father had never been forthcoming about. Behind closed door Viktor heard the shouting, orders giving for retribution and swift action. But he was never told the truth of what had happened. And now he was being robbed of his own future. “I want to be a teacher.”

“Enough of that.” The yelled and pulled his hand off Viktor’s as though it were searing hot. “Vlad’s dead. Now it’s you. That’s all there is to it.”

Viktor thought of Agamemnon, and his willingness to sacrifice his children for war. At least his education didn’t completely get wasted. If only his mother had been Clytemnestra and not Helen.

The door opened upon the older man’s signal, and Viktor was equally ushered out of his side. They began walking into a large, abandoned looking warehouse.

“Where are we?” Viktor asked, suspicion tinging his voice with fear.

“This is one of the docks we run.” The father stopped to point out at the port. We run from that blue water tower, all along this side down to the long wharf. Do you see?” He saw his son nod, but the confusion didn’t leave his face. Vlad had been ready. Now he’d have to scramble to get Viktor up to speed. This was going to be torture. Their mother encouraged the fantasy Viktor carried. Move to America. Teach fourth grade. Marry some man he loved, preferably another teacher. Adopt a five children. Get as many poodles as he wanted. The father was willing to indulge it too. Until November happened. Then the plans had to change.

“Viktor what we do is legal and illegal. The legal end you understand. The illegal end is what you’re learning today.” He turned his son back to the warehouse. As they moved towards it the father put a comforting arm around his son’s shoulders. The men on the sides of the warehouse were holding rifles. Many looked drunk, or strung out. Viktor grimaced. He knew his father’s business was something shady, but he had been kept out, at the instance of both Vlad and his mother.

“Dad…” Viktor started.

“Shh.” His father gave him a stern looked and pulled him in closer, under the guise of straightening the boy’s jacket lapels. “Any sign of weakness is going to have severe repercussions. Not from me. These men are loyal, but only because they think I will leave behind a leader just as strong.” His voice turned cold, and his glare turned Viktor to stone in an instance. “The minute they figure out that I’m leaving behind a sniveling brat with dreams of teaching finger painting, they will kill you and take all that we own.” For the first time in his life Viktor truly feared his father, but he also became aware that there was something much worse than the old man before him.

One of the nasty looking guards pulled a door open for them and Viktor entered the warhouse. It was cold, dank, it smelled like machine oil, and unwashed bodies. Viktor went to raise a hand to his nose, but thought better of it. He followed his father’s lead past large crates.

“We run guns and drugs into the country.” He said vaguely pointing to one section, “we also still run the food supply to the northern territories. That tradition began under Stalin, and if you can believe it, we still hold all the original farms and distributors.”

“I thought that had been reprivatized.”

His father snorted a laugh, “whether it’s the government or the capitalist, it’s still just people willing be corrupted for some loose change. Remember that Viktor. If it’s not us doing this, it will just be someone else.”

They turned a corner and Viktor stopped short. There was a line of children standing barefoot in front of him.

“Pick one.” His father indicated to the line.

Viktor’s mouth dropped open. If he had been playing along as the mafia boss’ son well the act shattered right there. “What?” He asked almost in a sob.

The guard watching the ragged children smirked. The father shot the man a glance. Then he shot the man. Viktor hadn’t even seen his father draw his weapon before he registered the sound and saw the man slowly falling backwards to the ground, cigarette still burning in his lips. The kids screamed and huddled together but fell quiet when more men entered the area.

“Is everything alright sir?” One asked, going over to the body to remove the rifle, boots and any identifying papers in his pockets.

“Fine. I thought he had sampled and you know this crop has to stay fresh. It’s going to America.” The man nodded in complete understanding and when he left the father turned to Viktor, “American pedophiles have a distinct palette. They want them foreign, not too foreign, and clean. That whole country is germaphobic.”

Viktor was amazed to find himself nodding, as if what his father said was good business sense and not the most disgusting thing he had ever heard.

“Now, we’re alone so you can pout all you want. But at end of this you are picking one.”

“Why? I don’t want a kid.” Viktor looked at his father in shock, “Dad, I’m gay but…”

The old man rolled his eyes. “Viktor, I know you don’t want to have sex with children. I’d have killed you myself if I thought you had that kind of weakness in you. That’s not the point of this.”

“Then what the fuck is?”

“You are picking one. You will save one. One will come home with us, and, knowing you, be indulged and spoiled and given too many sweets. One will become a little pet that runs around the house living like a child until the day he dies. Fourteen will be sold to the worst kind of people imaginable. Some will go to private owners, some will go to brothels. Fourteen will lead lives of horror and pain that you can’t imagine.”

Viktor was sobbing softly at this point. He fell at his father’s feet still not understanding why he was being laid with this guilt.

“I need you to remember the faces of the fourteen that you didn’t pick. It’s not about being ruthless and heartless. This is about knowing that with each action you take there are consequences, and those will be horrible for most people. I need you to be able to harden yourself to that reality.”

 _If it’s not us doing this, it will just be someone else._ Viktor remembered his father’s words. How could he live with this. He wanted to save all fourteen. He wanted to save everyone. But he couldn’t. If his father didn’t trade in human lives, someone else would. That didn’t make it right, but just walking away wasn’t right either.

In a shaky voice Viktor found himself standing to look at his father, “Did Vlad do this?”

His father sighed, “Vlad never had to. He just understood.”

Viktor could sense the disappointment in the man’s voice. It wasn’t just with Viktor, it was with everything. Vlad and their mother’s death. Having to bring Viktor into this business when the man would have happily let his son play out the school teacher fantasy. And now this.

Viktor walked over to the group, the children backed away in fear. They were dirty, clothed in rags, and shaking. One little boy with large dark eyes stood out in the crowd. His face looked like it was meant for mirth. A frown fit on his face as poorly as a cowboy hat on the Mona Lisa.

“This one.” Viktor pointed at the little Thai boy.

From behind him, Viktor heard his father call out to the guards to move the little boy into their car. “Take a good look Viktor. These are the ones you are leaving behind.”

Viktor wanted to throw up. But he pushed that down. If he was going to be able to pull more people out of that line in the future he would have to prove his strength to his father, and his father’s men.

 

Back in the car the little boy stared up at Viktor. His father had moved to the front to allow the two to sit in the back. The little boy started babbling in his native language, Viktor waved a hand to silence him.

“I don’t speak whatever that is.” He looked at the boy thoughtfully. Placing a hand on his own chest Viktor said slowly, “Viktor.”

The boy mimicked the motion and responded “Bicter.”

“No I’m Viktor.” He said slower and louder, because that’s how language works. No.

“Nu Eem Bicter.” The little boy parroted back.

Viktor sighed and turned to the window. Hoping that the car sickness wouldn’t be too bad. He felt a light touch pull at his sleeve. The little boy was looking at him and pointing to the floor of the car.

“Gameboy.” He smiled wide. How could this kid be smiling after today? “Gameboy for Phichit.” He patted his chest.

Viktor leaned over and held up the gaming system to the little boy who quickly snatched it and began playing furiously.

“You’re good.” Viktor said looking over the little boy’s shoulder.”

“Bicter.” He smiled and went right back to playing.

_I would have made a shitty teacher. ___

**Author's Note:**

> It is important to note that the author of this fic believes firmly that a cowboy hat on the Mona Lisa would be awesome.


End file.
